


Kitchen

by silence_since_silence



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Baking, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, Panic Attacks, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-07 14:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8803960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silence_since_silence/pseuds/silence_since_silence
Summary: Arthur comes home after a long work day.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For this fic (which was inspired by and twice meant to be posted for the [Winter Knights fest](http://winterknights.livejournal.com/)), I looked up all of the holidays that the internet could give me that take place between the end of November and the end of December. It turns out that December 9 is National Pastry Day in the US, so here is a little celebration of that winter holiday. :D
> 
> Originally this story was going to be some domestic humor with a large dose of panic added in. However, during editing it became angst-filled faster than I realized what was happening! I hope the resulting tone works.

During every month of the year when the sun sets before Arthur gets off work, he comes home to find a dark doorway. He tries not to remember the way his ex-wife would make sure the light was on for him in the evenings… or the way she broke it off the wall with a wild swing of her full tote bag when she left. Unfortunately, just like every other dark day, the absence of this front light makes it impossible for him to forget.

He manages to pick out the house key from the mess on his key ring. The numerous other keys on the ring jangle as Arthur lets them all fall against each other.

Arthur shoves the appropriate key against where he thinks the lock is on his front door. After a few scrapes and passes, the key finds the slot and slides into place.

As he turns the key, opens the door, and makes his way inside, he mumbles to himself for the thousandth time about getting a new light of some kind for the entryway.

_Maybe I can get one of those key ring lights_ , he thinks. _Or maybe a hard hat with a head lamp!_ he laughs to himself, but it sounds harsher than he expected.

Still, a new light might help improve his memory-induced bad mood, not to mention that anything that helps him to see the right key would be an improvement.

Inside the house, though, Arthur keeps a light on a timer in the front room. This allows him to avoid the toy truck his son Aithusa has left in his path today.

_Odd_ , he thinks. _They must not have gone to the park today._

The truck is odd because usually Arthur is welcomed home by a long scarf that gets tangled around his ankles or an overstuffed waterproof jacket that happens to be much slicker when trod on than a jacket has any right to be. The very first time Arthur slipped over Aithusa’s outdoor clothes and fell on his ass, he knew he needed reliable help for the future: the light in the front room goes on at exactly the moment the sun sets every single day. Goodness knows Aithusa’s nanny Merlin can’t be trusted to turn on a light when he isn’t going to be using it. _Bloody picky environmentally-conscious nanny_.

Arthur’s briefcase makes its familiar thud on the table to his right. He hangs his coat on a hanger and hook just beyond that. He uses his toes to wrestle his shoes off, bends down to place them on the shoe rack under the table, and picks up the toy truck so he can bring it into the play room.

Arthur is halfway down the hall on the left when he hears Merlin’s panicked shout of “Aithusa, _wait!_ ” before something makes a loud grinding-screaming noise.

Arthur turns around and sprints down the rest of the hall in the other direction to the kitchen. He makes it there in one second flat, and his heart is beating out of his chest.


	2. Chapter 2

What he finds being splattered all over the walls, appliances, floor, ceiling, window, and two people standing next to each other in front of a still-splattering blender is, fortunately, not a liquid in the bright red color that Arthur expected to see.

The grinding sound comes to a stop as Merlin finally gets his slippery fingers on the “off” button. The last splatter hits a high cabinet.

Merlin and Aithusa stand still for a moment. From what Arthur can see of their profiles, their eyes are wide and their mouths are hanging open.

Arthur’s heart is still pounding away. He feels light-headed.

Aithusa starts to giggle just a little bit. Merlin checks Aithusa over to make sure he didn’t hurt himself somehow, and then Merlin’s posture becomes less tense as he lets out a huge sigh of relief that Aithusa is still in one piece.

As if that were an agreed-upon cue, Arthur’s light-headedness gets the better of him: he trips over air, catches his shoulder against the doorframe, and sinks to his knees on the floor. His vision has gone gray and blurry. He distantly hears what he thinks is Merlin shouting his name in surprise and concern, and then he registers a large hand holding his shoulder up against the wall.

“Breathe, Arthur. In.... Out.... In.... That’s it....”

Merlin watches Arthur’s chest begin to rise and fall more slowly and more regularly. He ducks down so his face is in Arthur’s line of sight without Arthur having to move. “Arthur?” he asks.

Arthur focuses on Merlin’s face.

“Arthur, I’d like to get you some water. Can you keep yourself up against the wall?”

Arthur thinks about it. His head still feels wobbly, and the rest of his body is in the same shaky state. He gives a very small shake of his head from left to right to indicate ‘no.’

“Okay,” Merlin says. “Aithusa, can you come here please? Be careful not to slip.”

Merlin’s confident tone soothes Arthur a little.

Aithusa steps down from the stool he was using to better reach the countertop. He picks his way around the batter on the floor to make it across the kitchen.

“Aithusa, your daddy’s fine, but I think he would like a hug from you. Can you give him a hug while I get some water?”

“Uh-huh,” Aithusa replies. He smiles at Merlin and then hugs Arthur around the neck.

Arthur feels Merlin’s hand move away. He keeps one arm against the floor for support and wraps the other one around his three-year-old.

The only sounds are those of the mug cabinet’s hinges lightly squeaking and then the tap running.

Merlin comes back with a mug in one batter-free hand and a clean towel in the other. It seems he took the time to wash the goo off of his hands.

“Alright, Arthur?” Merlin says quietly.


End file.
